Kickstarting a month long challenge of writing poetry.
Why don’t you talk?
There is only so much silence I can understand,
only so much of your quiet I can twist and rotate
so that it fits into your patterns
and lets me decode what you mean.
But this time your dead air stands out like a piece from another puzzle.
Its edges are jagged;
I was used to the pieces with rounded corners,
I was accustomed to silence that would fit like a pebble in my hand.
Not to this boulder that refuses to move
and sits there eclipsing the sun.
Maybe you think your aloofness is a rainbow.
At my end I only see a single colour,
that is if you could call black a colour.
And there is only so long I can play ping pong with the table pushed against the wall,
only so much guessing I can do as to what ticks you off.
Yes, your quiet may work like a charm when we are in sync,
like smooth noiseless wheels.
I know this is not one of those moments,
this is one of those times when we are losing touch,
when we are stars in a rapidly expanding universe.
